Halo: My Father was a Marine
by Christian Knight
Summary: The Sangheili female was always seen as an odd one. She is mute, she speaks through her hands, draws amazing pictures and values all forms of life. But what shocks her people the most is her story: she was raised by human Marines. (I do not own the image, I'm just borrowing it)
1. A Female

**I had this idea in my head and just wanted to get it out there. I know it looks like I'm splitting hairs at the moment, but I was just too excited to wait, seriously I thought of this yesterday and couldn't get it out of my mind. **

**I do not own Halo, just my OC's; also this is a slight AU since it details a battle on a planet that isn't in the Halo world.**

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><p><strong>Halo: My Father Was a Marine<strong>

"**You don't choose your family. They are God's gift to you, as you are to them."-****Desmond Tutu**

Va'lorn observes the settlement before him with his young, critical eye. It doesn't look that different compared to the other structures within this small fiefdom, but Va'lorn knows for a fact that the person living within is as different as any Sangheili can possible come.

Nobody is really sure where the female came from, when she arrived or even how it is she came to be there. It's as if she just appeared one day and the community just accepted her.

Then people began to notice her when the fief fell into hard times. After Sanghelios left the Covenant, the people were deprived of workers, cooks, builders and engineers, rendering the mighty people to become embarrassingly helpless. For thousands of years they had relied on the work of the lesser species, the Unggoy and Kig Yars for example, both of which were supplied by the Covenant. Now without them and after so many cycles since there has last been a Sangheili farmer or builder, the civilization on the planet had started to crumble. It wasn't just the society that was in shambles, but also the people. Everyone became depressed that their religion, their superiority, everything, was revealed to be nothing more than a lie, a lie that many have believed in for countless cycles. They knew there are jobs to be done, but how can they perform such tasks when everyone, male, female, young and old were trained and only trained to be warriors? The humans, their new allies, had sent advisors to help the people to relearn how to live on their own, which is a long and slow process of change that the still prideful Sangheilis had to endure. However the fief of Mosaliee, or Mosali as it is now called, started to flourish, and it was all because of the female.

Va'lorn remembers the day he and the other younglings of the keep were practicing combat drills on the nearby lake when they noticed something, the odd female's house was still functioning. Curious, their instructor had wandered towards her house to see if she had an engineer, and if so, perhaps they could borrow it. When he returns though, he looked absolutely stun and immediately reported to the Keep lord. Later in the day the rumors started, one that made many people uneasy and slightly afraid; the female had installed her own power supply system.

Many people had watched as the Keep lord went to the female for the first time and when he return, he brought with him strange schematics which he gave to the guards and had ordered them to start building.

The guards were lost though, it wasn't because they didn't understand what the paper said, it was because they didn't know how to use the tools or the mathematics required to install such a device, one that has never been seen before.

The Keep Lord is already humiliated just for asking the female for advice, but he forced himself to go to her once again and asked for her personal assistance. That was when Va'lorn had seen her for the first time. He, as well as everyone else, was shocked beyond belief; the female was a youngling, just shy of becoming a full grown woman.

She looked normal Va'lorn suppose; she had the dark skin, a set of orange colored eyes and was close to becoming seven units tall. However, what set her apart is her confidence, she stood straight and converse with the males without regards to their gender difference. And when she converse she didn't speak, she used her hands and some sort of package of papers, all bounded together. Va'lorn though it was a tablet, until she removed a stylus, open the object and started moving it about the page before showing it to the males.

Bit by bit, with the uneasy movements of a newborn, they created a machine that had everyone baffled, nobody had a clue to what it was or what it could do. The female then help the males with installing the machine, she actually squatted in the dust, staining her robes, yet seemed not to be too troubled by it, and used the tools herself in the finishing process. They then put what looked like glass on the roof of the Keep, connect it to the machine and activated it. Va'lorn was mystified, the Keep's power grid reactivated almost instantly and without the use of an engineer or even a power source.

The female said that the power came from the sun, that this is called "solar energy."

After that day her name became well known, a name that sounded completely foreign to Va'lorn; Bree.

After that everything changed. Bree toured the fief, lending out her unbelievable knowledge to everyone who needed it. She built more solar powered homes, while also introducing wind, water and other natural sources that could be used to generate energy. She even knows a few things about farming and showed people how to do it. She used her beautiful pictures to explain how to use mathematical problems and how to apply them to certain problems experienced in life. She was even able to fix a Specter vehicle, she herself looked shock and later admitted she was merely experimenting, she wasn't actually expecting it to work.

She became a large part of the community afterword. Sangheili elders sought her out for advice, others have suggested that she should be a teacher, while many had elected her to become a personal advisor to the fief's Kaidon and all have begun to hold her in awe.

Yet she displayed more of her peculiarity when she decline, claiming that she isn't that important and surely someone with more experience is better suited for the position. Va'lorn knew for a fact that many Sangheilis would have jumped to obtain such a high social rank, so why didn't this female?

The happy times however came to a close. In the wake of the human alliance Sangheilis, who distrusted the aliens and still believe the people of Sanghelios are the superior race, began forming rebellion fractions and started assaulting the humans. One of the rebels had come to the fief and openly declared that Bree was teaching the people human knowledge and demanded her to tell the truth. She merely nodded her head, confirming that all her teachings had come from the humans, not appearing the least bit ashamed or afraid, which angered the rebel.

Though the people were surprised by this, they really saw nothing wrong, after all the humans are their allies now. But then the threats began to arrive, all proclaiming that Bree would be slain.

Determine to protect the female and her valuable information, the Kaidon of the fief had selected a young warrior and had tasked him with protecting Bree.

That young warrior happens to be Va'lorn.

The young warrior takes one last glance around, confirming the area is clear of any dangers before entering the premises. He opens the gate and walks in but stops. Along the path are flowers, all of which appeared to have been removed and place in the ground. Though they smell splendid to the warrior, he wonders why they are there, what purpose do these plants present?

He'll have to ask Bree later. With that in mind he continues up the path before stopping in front of the door. He wonders how to approach this matter. He was taught that as a male he can go wherever he wants whenever he want, but he reminded himself that he is in the territory of a unmated female and who knows, she might have some combat skills hidden amongst her other unnatural talents. He raises a fist and knocks gently on the door, stepping back as he waits.

It isn't long before he hears movement and the door opens to reveal Bree, his first assignment.

She looks the same since the last time he saw her visit the Keep lord, she has just entered adulthood while Va'lorn still has at least one more cycle to complete before he is dubbed a man. The only thing is she appears to have grown taller to the point where she and Va'lonr are almost eye to eye. Their same color orange eyes peer into one another while taking in what they are wearing. She is wrapped in the traditional robes of a Sangheili, but they have designs lace onto them, looking like she had done the work herself. He must admit he probably doesn't look as intimidating as he hoped to, who would be afraid of a blue armored Minor after all?

If Bree was offended by the rank of her new guardian she doesn't show it. She even smiles, with a almost tender look in her eyes.

This alone is enough to cause Va'lorn to question what kind of person he is dealing with.

That is answered when she holds out her hand with her palm open. Va'lorn is confused a bit until he remembers this is how she greeted people. She holds out her hand and the person in turn would shake it. In the back of his mind he wonders if this is some sort of human gesture. Cautiously he holds out his own hand, presses it against hers, feel her tighten the hold and she gives one firm shake.

She smiles at him once more before motioning for him to enter. Taking in another lungful of air, Va'lorn enters and Bree shuts the door as he does so.

He takes one glance around and instantly knew that this place is indeed different. The hallway he is in have squares hanging from them, squares that contains images, but they look so bizarre and random to Va'lorn. Without realizing it, he moves down the corridor, observing each piece of art, all of them are different, but were obviously created in the same manner. They are of different objects, pictures of birds, animals, suns, planets, Sangheilis. One picture causes him to pause though, it was placed among the rest of the pictures, but it stood out for reasons unknown to Va'lorn.

It was an image of a human.

For most of his young life he was told of the barbarians known as humanity, a race that is just as savage and deceptive as the Jiralhanae. They wage war upon one another, have different sects and views that sets them apart, none having the same insight as the other. Their technology is crude compared to those of the Forerunners and their fighting skills are sloppy as if they have never held so much as a blade their entire lives.

However the tables had turn in the past cycle when the Sangheili lost almost everything; honor, glory and chief of all pride when the Covenant reveled how weak they are and it is now the humans, the former enemy, who is helping them.

Still unaware of what he is doing, Va'lorn reaches forward, tugs the small square from the wall and stares at the image that is protected by some barrier that feels like glass. But his real focus is on the lone being in the center of the artwork.

It is delicately detailed to the point that Va'lorn believes he is staring at a black and white hologram and the alien is truly staring back at him. The being is a warrior, which is obvious due to the fact that the alien is holding a weapon and is clothed in armor. He guesses it's a male, though he had heard stories that the humans allow females to fight alongside them. Yet what surprise him are the male's eyes. They appear to be sparkling, a bright light of interest as he stares off into space.

Va'lorn then feels the presence and looks to his left, almost bumping his head against Bree's. He then feels foolish. Here he is in his charge's home yet he acted like it's his and is at the moment violating her space and privacy.

Bree doesn't look angry or even affronted by the lack of respect to her home. She merely looks at him before nodding at the picture, almost as if she is confirming something.

Va'lorn isn't sure what she is trying to say, but hoping to get some idea, he puts the imagery back in its former place before looking to the female again. She still has that same smile and gestures for him to follow her. She doesn't wait to see if he is following as she leads the way into one of the rooms with Va'lorn hurrying after her.

He pauses upon entering and is surprised once more. There is a large opening in the wall, a window, allowing Bree to look outside and view one of the suns as it descends and sets while the another ball of light remains in high orbit. There is a large table where two plates have been place, each one containing some sort of meal that is radiating the scent of meat. In the far corner is what appears to be a food processing area while the rest of the room is overflowing with various pictures. Each one though looks to be incomplete, almost as if the artist, Bree he suppose, is having a hard time focusing.

A small snap is heard and he turns his head to see that the sound had originated from Bree's fingers. He wonders how she produced the noise without using her vocal chords, a fact that chills him when he remembers that she is mute. How is she doing this?

She waves at him to have a seat in front of the meal that is practically inviting Va'lorn to feast, but he hesitates. What is it he is supposed to do? Is it even allowed for him, a guard, to eat while watching his charge? Why is she treating him like a guest rather than a warrior?

She doesn't appear to be asking herself these questions for she sits and looks up to him, as if waiting for him to come and join her. Finally he moves towards the table and sits, deciding to take the offering of food as an order from a superior.

He bows his head before saying, "thank you." His eyes suddenly widens as he realizes that this is the first tie he had spoken to her, he didn't even introduce himself.

He keeps his head lowered as he says, "My apologies ma'am, I didn't mean to forget myself, I am Va'lorn Mosali."

She smiles and nods her head. Does this mean she know who he is? Was she expecting him? Of course she is, she prepared a meal for him didn't she?

He is still wheeling from this small revelation when he notices that she is doing something with her hands. She is moving them in a variety of forms, holding up digits and twisting her hand before pointing at herself. He stares at her blankly before she performs the same action again. He blinks once as she does it a third time. Finally it dawns on him what it is she is doing.

"Bree," he says, using her name for the first time, "are you saying your name is Bree?"

She grins and nods in answer while Va'lorn sighs within himself. If this is how they are going to speak to each other for the duration of the cycle, Va'lorn might as well make an attempt at learning how she uses her hands to speak.

He then looks down at his meal and takes it in. He isn't really sure what it is he is staring at; it looks like meat, but it is brown and is radiating heat, not looking as nutritious as a fresh kill would.

He looks up to gage Bree's reaction to the meal but see that she has her head lowered. For a moment he thought she was bowing to him when he notices that she is making rapid gestures with her hands, capturing his curiosity. She then finishes before opening her eyes, grabs two of the utensils closest to her and uses them as she eat. Wishing not to disrespect her, Va'lorn grabs the same utensils and eats as well.

Bree uses the strange tools skillfully, she uses one to hold down the meat while using a small blade to cut it into pieces before presenting it to her mandibles, which in turns grab hold of each piece and pulls it into her mouth. It is obvious this is how she usually consumes her meal, but Va'lorn could not grasp it. Literally, the meat would not hold still for him, each time he presses down on it the dull blade would make a squeak that would hurt his ears and project the meat to move across the plate. He is also unable to cut the meat into squares, they will come out sloppily and disfigured. Finally he gave up and just picks up the food, wraps his mandibles around it and slowly bit off piece by piece of it. He is unsure if he would call the meal satisfying or if it's even worthy of praise with the unusual flavors he tastes on his tongue, but all that matter is that its filling his stomach.

Va'lorn finishes off the last of his meal and looks back to Bree who is still eating calmly with no rush, eyeing Va'lorn every so often.

The male tries to wait for her to finish so that he could leave the table, but patience was never his strong suit.

"May I go and check the perimeter?" he finally asks her.

Bree just looks up and nods, not appearing the least bit upset that he requests for an early leave.

Taking that small gesture in, Va'lorn stands and lumbers off to search the house.

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><p>Va'lorn has checked every room, every door and every crack before concluding that the house is secured. He peeked into Bree's bedroom, not daring to enter, and sees that's there are no windows so there's no threat of an intruder entering from any way other than the door. She has two spare rooms, filled with boxes that looks human in nature, filled with objects that baffles the Sangheili, but he decides none of them are hazardous and leaves them where they are. Each window in the structure is securely shut and even has some sort of device hooked to them, did Bree place them there and what are they for? He'll have to ask her later. With his initial observation completed, he returns to the same room to see how Bree is fairing.<p>

She had finished her meal and is slightly shock to see that she even took the time to clean the dishes. As a important figure does she not have her own servants to perform such tasks for her? Then again, he hasn't seen anyone else within the house, so it must only be him and Bree together.

The female in question is seated on the other side of the room, sitting in front of some sort of furniture piece that is holding up a large paper while she moves a stylus over its surface. He is sure she hasn't notice his presence, so he stands by the door and keeps a keen eye on her, occasionally flicking his eyes all over the room as he searches for threats.

Units begins to go by to the point that one of the suns have set while the other is rising, a sign that its time to sleep, but Bree doesn't look the least bit tired.

Curious with what she is doing, Va'lorn walks up to her and takes one glance at the paper and becomes transfixed.

On the large paper she is drawing on are plain figures with no faces, hands or feet, just outlines of bodies, five to be specific. Yet what it was that captures his attention the mostly is the smaller image that is being held up by a small clip in the corner of the paper. It is an image, but this one is different. The figures look completely lively, all fully colored and all looking cheerful, but that's not what he found interesting, not entirely. It is an image of four human warriors, and the one in the middle is holding something in its lap, something small and who is looking just as happy as the humans. It is a Sangheili youngling, wearing a strange set of clothing style similar to what the humans are wearing except for their armor, but what stands out to Va'lorn are the youngling's eyes. They are a familiar shade of orange.

The male turn to face the ever cheerful face of Bree as she watches him, his stump yet amazed face must no doubt look amusing to her.

He looks between the Bree standing before her and the smaller Bree in the image; both smiling, both looking extremely happy. He wonders if this image is some sort of portal to the past, it's so real, far better than anything he has seen Bree create.

Bree lays a soothing hand on Va'lorn's arm, causing him to look at her. He can see something in her eyes, almost like it's a welcoming gesture of some sort.

He glances at the image one last time before looking to her and asks, "Who are the humans?"

Her smile falters slightly, but not all the way. She raises her stylus and writes on the paper once more, but instead of a picture, she is writing something. Va'lorn watches as if he is entrance before she raises her hand and one word is presented to him, written in the Sangheili hieroglyphs.

_Family_

Now he is really confused. Does this female not know that she was among foreign species? How could she think of the humans as one of their own? How did she fall into the company of humans to begin with? Where did this happen? How did it happen? Who are these aliens? And what did they do to her?

He hears slight shuffling behind him and turns to look. Bree has grabbed a much smaller pad and is writing something. When she is finished, she hands it over to him.

_They are my family._

Va'lorn knows this, she probably just wrote it to assure him that she knows what she is talking about and there is no mistake.

Still, he looks up at her, too many questions still flowing through his mind before he finally utters one word, "how?"

She slowly looks past him, as if she in deep thought, processing the words in her mind as it travels deep into her past. Va'lorn is sure units have passed before she retrieve the pad from his hand, writes something down and present it to him.

It is a simple sentence, but one that he finds just as mind blowing and as alien as it could ever become, a sentence that he could not understand, a sentence with a word that he could not identify, a sentence that will no doubt change the way he views the female forever as he reads what she just wrote.

_My father was a Marine_.

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><p><strong>I'll probably update this after I update my other Halo fic Unexpected Allinace in case you're wondering. I have no idea when the next chapter will be up, but I hope you can be patient. <strong>

**Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed.**


	2. A Marine

**AN: Just passing on a message, if any of you have read or are reading a story by "Sabere Commander," just letting you know he/she is experiencing technical difficulties so it may be a month before he/she can update again. **

**I don't know why but this music plays in my head every time I think about this story: **

**Honor: by Hans Zimmer, Geoff Zanelli & Blake Neely: (I don't own the song)**

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><p><strong>(Warning: contains blood and gore)<strong>

**July 08, 2537-Outer Colonies- Planet Nirvana**

"Increase elevation two degrees, adjust three degrees left!"

"Set!"

"Hanging!"

"Fire!"

Mark Straka holds the mortar above the tube for a millisecond to register the command before dropping the explosive. He hears the round slide down a bit before he squats and covers his ears by this time he hears the muffled thud and looks over his shoulder just in time to see the white smoke trail soar through the sky and disappear behind the mountain they are aiming.

Spread out five yards apart from Mark's team are various other mortar crews as they work to the bone, firing off their rounds. Hirako gazes through her binoculars before looking to Fredrik who is positon behind the mortar, adjusting the knobs for the elevation and swivel movement.

"How we looking Freddy?" she hollers out to him.

"Doing fine," Fred responds before looking to Mark, "What about you Mark?"

"Could be better," Mark calls back as he wipes at his sweaty brow. He swears they have been firing for over an hour now, the supposedly new and improve forty millimeter mortar tube prove that part as steam floats from the tube.

"Cease fire!" a sharp voice shouts over the barrage, "Cease fire."

"Thank God," Hirako mutters as she rubs her eyes, "I have a headache from all the times the glass hit my eyes."

"I'll say," Mark remarks, "Red eyes don't exactly make you look attractive," he adds a smile to show he meant no offense.

Truth be told, Hirako has the body of a war time Marine, which she is. Her five foot nine statues is about average around some areas, but not exactly challenging. She has her long shiny hair carefully concealed within her helmet so that it would stay "perfect," despite the heat from the mortar firing and the intense heat from the planet's twin suns. Her brown eyes are covered behind the standard issued goggles and her hands are likewise covered with gloves; despite her being the squad's spotter, she still wears protective gear because the intense exhaust heat from the tube could strike anyone of the team members.

Hirako mumbles before throwing a small rock at Mark, catching him in the chest.

He just gives her another grin as he wipes the remnants of the dirt off his armored chest. They were told that the armor is to protect their bodies from the heat and exhaust as well, but they all knew that the Covenant are now deploying hunter killer squads who will try and kill Marines positioned behind the supposed safety line. They all have at least experienced combat once, whether it was in civilian or military life it didn't matter, thy all have been through the drill and knows what to be expected of them.

Mark takes this moment though to remove his helmet and swipe ash and dust off from his buzz cut blond hair that is slowly growing. His pale eyes scan the ridge, trees and valleys for snipers, but so far the little slope they are positioned on is safe, or as safe as it gets around these parts.

The outer colony world known as Nirvana was once a resort planet; built to house a small populace with its exotic locations, clear waters and rigorous valleys. The place has a number of hotels, cafes, guide tours and even mini-palaces for the billionaires who use it as their summer or winter homes, depending on the person's home planet to begin with. Since the war began, fewer and fewer people came, it wasn't long before the flow of tourists and hot shots slowed to a trickle; either people were too scared to leave their homes or they were killed, which is basically the grim reality of things. The UNSC tried to make it into a refuge for people who lost their homes in the wake of the genocide the Covenant is spearheading, but the land was simply too extreme for people to live in, between the weather, wildlife and lack of proper living space, including tent wise, the refuge was a bust. It was then converted to a growth world, tasked with growing food, but that proved difficult since there are only a few spaces of land that was considered fertile for planting. An industrial planet was out of the question, the land is too rough and humanity didn't have the resources or the time to build factories, so aside from providing a few mouthfuls of food, there was really nothing the planet could contribute to the war effort or the civilian population.

Then came the Covenant forces a few months ago and the Marines of the Fourth Division were sent in. This was considered a high prioritized battle, under no circumstances are the Marines to lose the planet, the loss of an outer planet so close to the inner colonies is what many people are taking as a sigh that the end of the human race is near.

All of this had conspired together and had resulted with Mark being in the hole he is in. This isn't his first tour of duty, but this is the longest. A whole solid month of ground battles…something's up. Usually the Covenant would send a few ships planet side to perform some sort of recon before they glass the planet, all within the span of a few hours. It's quite rare for there to be a day of fighting, but a whole month? There is no doubt that this is the bloodiest thing Mark and the Marines have ever been a part of, no questions asked.

"Hey Mark," Freddy calls out, "what are you thinking about?"

"Why we're here."

"You have an answer to that?" is Fred's next question.

"No," answers Mark, "but you'll be the first person I'll tell when I figure it out."

"There's only one reason you're here," comments Hirako as she drinks from her canteen of water.

"And what would that be?" Mark questions.

"Survival," replies the female Marine, "unlike other wars, we cannot surrender, the enemy won't allow it, it's either extermination or win the war," her eyes settles on the mountain they have just been shelling, "those are our only options."

"You're a bright ray of sunshine Sergeant Oshawa, you know that?" a new voice suddenly breaks in.

The mortar crew turns their heads but isn't really surprised to see Captain Anthony "Skipper" Tiscali. Unlike most military officers, Skipper is real slack due to his young age, that much can be told just by observing how he dresses. He is wearing a long sleeve shirt beneath his armor, but has rolled up his sleeves to give his forearms a "tan" as he says. He has brown hair and a young face; he's probably no more than thirty, an old man by Marine standards, which results with giving him the rights to call everybody either "Kiddo," "kid," or "munchkin". He has a free flowing personality, and is always considerate about his decisions, which are odd in some ways. Like how he orders his Marines not to cause any unnecessary destruction to "mama" nature. Yet what earns him the respect of his mortar platoon is that he wouldn't send his men into a combat situation that could get them killed, if he ever had the option of course.

True to his playful nature, the Captain slides down into the foxhole without an invitation and casually takes his helmet off and rubs his hair.

"So what's up Captain?" Freddy suddenly asks as he offers the senior officer his water bottle.

Hirako and Mark locks eyes before they both roll them. No matter how wild Skipper seems to act or how he insists on calling him by his nickname is alright, Freddy always sucks up to him. Maybe he's just tired of being a Private First Class whereas Mark and Hirako have been promoted throughout the years.

Skipper smiles as he takes the water, giving no indication that he is truly grateful for the gesture or not before taking a quick swig.

As he screws the cap back on he says, "That Covenant command post that the air boys supposedly found," Skipper puts a lot of sarcasm into his words, "has been reduced to smoking ashes."

"That's it?" Mark asks.

"Well there's also word that there was another clash further down the valley again, but so far we are maintaining control of the southern hemisphere," Tony reports, giving the water back to Freddy as he does so.

The news can't be that good. Either the Marines have held the line and lost a large amount of men and equipment to achieve victory or the Captain is lying and the Marines have lost some ground.

Mark opens his mouth to ask another question but is interrupted as six helicopters flies overhead. They are flying so low that dust, pebbles and a good amount of cussing went into the air before they flew away. Mark can see the twin barrels on two of the choppers and guesses that they are Sparrow Hawks, while the other two have open compartments with boots hanging over the sides, Falcons.

"Who are they?" Hirako asks while placing her binoculars to her eyes and tries to get a good look at the choppers.

"ODSTs," Captain says as he lies against the wall of the hole and puts on polarized sun glasses colored bright green, "they're being sent in to secure the site."

"Well that'll keep them quiet," Freddie breaks in with a wide grin, all the while eyeing the Captain, probably to see if he finds the comment funny, but Skipper remains still with a blank expressin, so Mark nods his head in agreement with Freddie.

The ODSTs have been complaining nonstop for the past few weeks about being paired with "regulars." After the first week of fighting, Marines have been dying left and right, leaving large holes in platoon numbers, so as a solution, HIGHCOM in all their wisdom has decided to place squads of Shock Troopers within the ranks of the other Marines. The Troopers see themselves as an elite fighting force, one that should be kept separate from other fighting units, for what reason, Mark has no idea, they probably thinks it's a disgrace to fight alongside anyone who isn't a part of their group. However he does have to admit that the Troopers are pretty good at getting the job done; the Marines may be the first to fight, but the ODSTs are the spearheads of all their assaults.

The Helicopters moving into a possibly hostile area proves this point. But Mark, despite being twenty five years old, have seen enough of war to know that one day the Troopers luck is going to run-

Large green plasma bolts suddenly shoots from the ground and strikes one of the Sparrow Hawks. There is a massive explosion as the round hits the aircrafts reserve tanks and within a single second, the helicopter becomes a flaming fire ball as it falls to the ground.

Acting on pure instinct and muscle memory; Mark and his three man squad rushes into action. Freddie checks the degrees on the scope position alongside the mortar tube, Mark takes out another forty millimeter round and Hirako looks through her binoculars to sight in on the enemy's location.

However Skipper jumps in front of them and waves his arms, "Hold your fire! Hold your fire!"

Throughout the small emplacement, similar cries are being heard as the Company commanders tries to stop the mortar teams from firing. The command comes too late though; Mark hears the thump and turns to see a round skyrocketing into the air. He then looks back to the mountain and freezes. The choppers are still in the AO, Area of Operations, the target zone.

They are flying in circles, the remaining Sparrow Hawk is releasing the cannon's payload unto the enemy forces while the Falcons spin in complete circles as the door gunners and Troopers fire their weapons, trying to hit an enemy the mortar squads can't see, but who they know are there.

Mark hears the whistle and someone gasps in horror as they see the mortar descending. Seeing the danger, the helicopters whirl their way out of the airspace just as the explosive hits the ground, thankfully missing the choppers, a close call in friendly fire terms.

The choppers back off, but instead of retreating, they begin to descend somewhere within the rocky regime of the mountain, blocking them from the mortar team's view.

There is a nothing but stillness as the Marines wait for further orders. The mortars are antipersonnel explosives, design to cause complete havoc against ground troops as they release a hail of shrapnel that can shred any fleshy being to pieces. With no idea where the ODSTs have landed, nobody wants to chance firing off a round and killing their own guys, no matter how much the Orbital Troopers are loathed.

"Tiscali!" the sudden shout almost causes Mark to drop the mortar before every head turns to see Major Jerry Kerr, the Executive Officer of Delta Company. The short red face man isn't accustomed to the hard life of a combat Marine, so he took his anger out on everyone, insulting people after he is sure they are of lower rank compared to his Major statues.

"Captain!" the Major shouts again, "get your skinny little butt over here!"

Skipper gives Kerr an odd look before taking off his glasses, but not before Hirako speaks.

"How does he know you have a skinny little butt?" she teases.

He shrugs, "maybe he's been checking me out," he flashes her a grin, "I am a pretty handsome dude don't you know?" Hirako doesn't have a chance to reply as Skipper turns and makes his way to the XO (Executive Officer).

Mark replaces his own helmet and makes sure all of his gear is on correctly. The suns will be setting soon, it's usually during the night does the Covenant begin their killing raids. At the thought, he self-consciously reaches out and picks up his SMG, Mark doesn't need a rifle, usually the infiltrators will be so close that he could feel their warm breaths washing over him. He loads it and pulls back the clip, he dully notices that everyone else is doing the same thing as well, Hirako is picking up her own SMG while Freddie loads his shotgun.

The three friends hunker low, but remains at the ready. A nighttime mission team may needs firing support or an illuminator may need to be sent up to check if there are any enemy personnel within the vicinity.

A low distant rumble is heard and for a moment, Mark thought it was going to rain. However he realizes that the sound is originating from the mountain and guesses that the ODSTs are finally going to work. He stares at the mount for a while before his eyes travel over the other ranges surrounding them, as well as the valley.

Everything looks green, the mountain's base is covered in a jungle like forest while from ground up its clear save for some grassy and rocky lands. Everything looks so peaceful and surreal, but the evidence of war is everywhere. If he looks closely, Mark can see the mini craters created by powerful artillery shells and the scorched soil from where plasma bolts have landed. In the distant skies he can just make out the shadow of a Covenant Corvette as it slowly floats across the planet, probably heading off to a new battleground. The low flying ships are in perfect positions to begin a glassing process, but why didn't they? The whole planet is practically covered with human Marines, potential threats to them, so why not take this opportunity to annihilate them?

"Sergeant Oshawa," Skipper comes back into view, strapping on his helmet as he does so, "get your men together, you're the new QRF (Quick Reaction Force) and you're being deployed, now."

Hirako seems to turn green before she sputters out, "B-but, Skipper, I mean Captain, w-we, th-that is I-I," finally she gains her confidence back and says, "sir, we're a mortar squad, we get into skirmishes but we don't attack or lead assaults."

"True," Skipper says in a solemn voice, "but you're the squad I like most, mostly because you don't whine, so I know you're the ones most determine to survive, and probably the ones most determine to win."

Mark tries to figure out if his Captain is joking or not, but Freddie jumps to his feet and salutes, "sir! We'll get it done sir!"

Freddie doesn't flinch, but he does quivers from the death stares his fellow teammates are giving him.

"Good," Skipper says with a smile, "by the time you get up there, the ODSTs will probably have killed everything and all you need to do is mop up the mess," with that he turns and walks back to Kerr.

"Is that better or worse compared to fighting," Mark mutters under his breath as he slowly rises and twists his cramp body a little.

"Oh," Skipper turns around and says, "Seymour is going with you," he then continues walking.

The team freezes at these words. Gunnery Sergeant Seymour is a legend within the platoon, or to be more exact, a myth considering nobody knows his background story or believes the tales told about him. His very existence is question, the man is a giant, over seven feet tall, pure muscle and as silent as the grave. He wears the Marine armor all the time, sun up to sun down, hides his eyes behind goggles and covers every inch of his skin with clothing. Rumor has it that he can bench over a thousand pounds, many found this unbelievable, but not Mark, he saw the man once take on an Elite in hand to hand combat and came out on top. Though there are some other odd things about him as well, like how he seems to be wounded, from the first day he was assigned to the platoon he has a sort of limp and people would say he had obtained shrapnel in his limb. Despite this though, he is an amazing fighter, whenever the men in the platoon makes contact he would rush in, guns a blazing. He is one heck of a Marine, but that does not help the fact that he is separate from the others, separated through fear and oddness, Mark is ashamed to admit it, but honestly, the dude is scary, even more so when he doesn't talk, grunt or anything else for that matter.

Still, in times like this, Mark is more than glad that he and the others have a titan fighting alongside with them.

Slowly they crawl out of their hole, but Hirako halts Freddie, "cover the gear."

Freddie looks ready to argue but holds his tongue when he remembers he doesn't argue with his friend, especially when she uses her "I'm a higher rank" tone on him. Grumbling silently, Freddie breaks out the tarp and starts to cover the mortars and the tube to keep dust and water from ruining them.

While he does this, Hirako and Mark starts their descent down the hill they are on, heading towards the road directly beneath them, with Hirako still fuming.

"That was a little rough, wasn't it?" Mark eventually asks her.

She glowers before saying, "Perhaps."

"It's not like he volunteered us," Mark continues, "even if he didn't say anything, we still had to go."

"Why do you always have to be the annoying voice of reason?" Hirako suddenly demands.

Mark shrugs, "well somebody has to be."

The rest of the journey is completed in silence. Another few yards later, they finally make it to the bottom. There are Warthogs, with either turrets or extra seats for troop transport set up in their beds. Mechanics and Marines watch over them with a careful eye, the Covenant have made it a type of sport to destroy as many human vehicles a possible, knowing how much human soldiers depend on the fast transportation and the firepower the vehicles provide. Which is why the Marine mortar team is disgusted with what the mechanics presented them.

"You want us to ride into a war zone on that?!" Freddie exclaims.

The vehicle before them is a Spade, a civilian truck built to travel over tough terrain, but there are no windows (save for the windshield), no doors, and absolutely no cover for the unlucky fool riding in the back. Worse, its bright orange! The suns are setting, but the thing is practically glowing, making its very existence look like an insult to the term "stealth".

"This is all we have," the Corporal mechanic says as he puffs out smoke from his cigarette.

"Uh-huh," Hirako says as she nods her head, "and what about those?"

She jerks her head to five Warthogs lined up right next to the Spade.

"In reserve," replies the Corporal, "in case we need to make a quick getaway."

"But we are the QRF," Mark tries to explain, "We need to support some men up in the mountains, how do you suggest we do that with this thing?" he waves an arm at the vehicle.

"Well normally I would suggest ramming them," here he gestures at the metal plates position in front of the wheel, "but since you're the…'QRF'," he puts extra stress on the word, "I'll make you a deal, just put that on top of the roll cage in the back and you'll be fine."

The thing he was indicating is an M247th Heavy Machine Gun, which is lying on the ground.

"Well…how do we get it up there?" Mark asks as he looks at the back of the truck, remembering that the gun probably weighs two hundred rounds.

"That's your problem," the mechanic says as he flips the butt of his cigarette at the Marines, hitting Freddie's chest plate armor, "but if you want advice," he leans in before whispering, "I suggest you lift with your knees." He flashes them a cocky smile before walking away.

Hirako mutters a dark oath as she gazes at the mechanic with dagger like eyes.

Mark sighs as he looks at the gun and says, "Well someone got to do it, and we have a date to catch, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah," Hirako admits as they all converge on the gun. They make sure the safety is off, but they all stay clear of the barrel.

"On three, ready?" Hirko says, "Three, two...holy sonova-!" her curse is replace with a groan of effort as she tries to hold up the weight of the massive gun.

The gun feels more like its three hundred pounds instead of two hundred, causing them to stumble a bit as they do their best not to drop the gun on themselves. They are in pretty good shape, but that doesn't mean much at the minute as they struggle with their load.

Moaning and swearing under their breaths, the Marines carry the weapon to the Warthog, parked two meters away. They manage to lift the thing up to their waist before their strength gives out and they are forced to lower the gun.

"How did they move this thing anyway?" Freddie questions as he puts some pressure on his back.

"They probably used a crane," Hirako says as she rubs her hands, "I swear I need to kill something today or I'm going to-"

"Heads up," Mark interrupts and points directly behind her.

Hirako looks to see what had grabbed her companion's attention and her eyes widen.

Standing right behind them, appearing like a ghost, is Gunnery Sergeant Seymour. Mark isn't sure whether to salute or to make a run for it. The guy is huge, easy to believe why most people thinks he's a giant. All three of them have to bend their heads back just to look into his goggle covered eyes. His mouth is set in a grim determine line and his clean shaven face gives nothing away, almost like he is made of granite.

Hirako is the first to break contact, she coughs and gestures at the gun, "We need to-"

However, Seymour is already moving. He grabs the gun with one hand and with a grunt he lifts it off the ground till it reaches his hip. He grunts again as he places a foot on the truck's bed and heaves himself into the back. He takes one last step, grunts again and elevates the gun one last time before dropping it on top of the roll cage. He then casually reaches into his pack and withdraws wire looking string and wraps it around the gun, securing it to the vehicle.

Freddie lets out a low whistle, "That's how you do it," he mutters under his breath. Seymour twists his head around and stares at the Marine who just spoke. Freddie cowers a bit but the Gunny nods at him before planting his feet apart and holds on to the truck with one hand while the other rests on the handle of the machine gun.

"Guess that's the signal to move," Hirako says as she walks towards the Spade and says, "Freddie, you're driving, Mark, get in the back."

Mark stops and turns to his squad leader, "why me?" he demands, while he tries his best not to sound like he's whining.

"Because you're the lucky one," she calls back as she settles in the passenger seat in the Spade, "the fact that you made it into the Marine Corps prove that point."

Mark doesn't have the heart to argue at the moment. He looks up at Seymour for his permission to join him. The Gunny however just stares off into the space in front of them, appearing oblivious to the world around him.

Gulping nervously, the young Marine climbs into the back bed, stands, and comes up next to the Gunny, planting his hands on the roll cage as he does so. He glances at Seymour who still doesn't acknowledge Mark's presence, so Mark just sighs as he makes sure his SMG is still sling onto his back before grabbing the safety rail in front of him once more.

"All set?" Freddie calls back.

"What will you do if I say no?" Mark asks.

"Nothing, cause we're going," before he could remark to this, the Spade suddenly shoots forward and Mark hangs on for dear life as he came close to being thrown off.

"So much for being lucky," Mark mummers.

* * *

><p>They traveled for nearly thirty minutes, but in that time span, the suns have finally fallen behind the ridgelines and the world became dark. This is the time for the new moon, so there isn't anything in the skies, the few stars that are visible doesn't give off any forms of light at all. In the distance Mark can just scarcely makes out muzzle flashes, originating either from Marine arms or Covenant weapons. Blue and yellow fire criss cross across the valley floor in a never ending fight. Mark is sure glad he isn't down there, then again that may change since they are almost to their objective.<p>

A sudden bump almost throws Mark off, but Seymour's arm shoots out like a bolt of lightning, grabs him by the scruff of his neck and yanks him back onto the Spade.

"Thanks," breathes Mark, but Seymour returns to manning the gun and resumes his statue like pose.

Turning away, Mark tries to concentrate on something, anything, aside from the small feeling of dread starting to cloud his mind.

Slowly, the surroundings remind him of home, or what was home. Harvest was a pretty bright world, summer all year round, perfect for growing and gathering food almost on a daily basis. Yet despite its bright never ending sunshine, the planet had no moon, which made night time travel a very dangerous and nerve racking experience.

The Straka family lived in the newly developed section of the planet. There were no malls, no theatres or super markets, all that the small settlement had to offer was a local trading post that sold month old comics and one credit novels. There were no pave roads either, nor were there any empty plots of land for people to throw parties or to have a small road race. Not exactly appealing aspects for most teens, but Mark wasn't like most people his age back then.

His family was…lower class he supposes. They had a small field for themselves and spent every credit and every drop of sweat to make ends meet. They had a JOTUN, but it was old and kept breaking down, resulting with Mark's parents working long and hard in the field. Because of this he was mostly raised by his grandmother who was a former school teacher, so he had an early start in education and manners. That, plus his grandmother knew how to swing a stick and made sure that Mark listen, but that only happened once or twice. However though it seemed like a benefit, his advanced learning made him different from other kids, making him more mature and more respectful. His fellow schoolmates would tease him about how he would rather read a book than play Grav-ball. Because of the teasing he would often run home and spend time with his grandmother, before he eventually became eight years old and joined his mother and father out in the fields. They were happy with how he turned out, but he somehow felt his father disapproved of him, and Mark knew why. His dad was once a Grav-ball champion from his old school days; he proudly displayed the trophies in the living room and showed them off to whoever came to visit. Sometimes as a family outing they would go to a local Grav-ball game and Mark is sure his father would glance at him before looking to the fields.

Mark was pretty content with his life as a smart and well-being child. But he wanted his father to be proud of him. He started lifting weights, going for runs and forced himself to work hard in the fields. One day he tried out for the Grav-ball team, but he didn't really know all the rules of the sport or the necessary requirements to participate. He quit the team after only an hour of drills; long enough to make everyone on his team hate his guts for being so horrible. The coach even called him a quitter as Mark walked away, making him feel miserable yet at the same time determine to do something that hardly anyone can boast about.

So what does he do? He talks to a Militia recruiter the very next day.

The Militia consists mostly of kids and older people from retired public services such as police officers or fire fighters. The Militia teaches you to salute, fire a gun, the ranks of the military, and how to march, which is basically it. There is real no future for the people in the Militia, it was more like a volunteer group kind of deal, and they promised some action but not a whole lot. Originally Mark wanted to head instantly to the UNSC and join the Army or maybe even the Marines if he was strong enough, but he though the Militia would be the first stepping stone in that chain.

His family didn't take it well though. His grandmother burst into tears on the spot. His mother instantly jumped up and bereted him like he robbed a bank or something. Yet what had the most impact on him was his father. He didn't yell, he didn't yank out his hair, and he didn't cry, he just calmly got up from the kitchen table and walked out the door.

Mark felt sick but he pressed his mother to sign the papers. With the increase of Insurgent activities, the age restriction line had dropped from eighteen to fifteen, Mark's age. His mother screamed in his face that he will not leave school; he needed to finish his education and go to college. What chance did he have in college though? They can barely make it with him in regular school, where will he get the money to go to college?

His mother told him to simply get a job, there was a large demand for farmhands, but Mark didn't want to help till soil all day or sit bored out of his mind as he watched a machine do all the work. He wanted to matter, to do something worth being proud of. So he spends as much time in school as he could before he announced the news to his shocked parents; with his excellent grades he can graduate early, at the age of sixteen.

After that it was a long night of negotiations. His mother simply refused for him to go to the Militia, his dad was still silent so that left all the talking up to grandma. Her primary concern was him getting killed, he reassured her though that Militia troops don't get sent into the field of fire so he should be safe (he doesn't mention to them his secret ambition of joining the UNSC soon afterwards.) Then there was the problem of him being fed, clothed and cared for, but he showed them that once the papers were signed and he turned them in than he would be considered "UNSC property," and the UNSC will do its best to keep him alive, not counting the fact that he may enter a conflict sometime soon. With the plain and simple facts laid out in front of them, his grandmother, and through her his mother, agree that he wouldn't be in much danger and signed him in. His father just wrote his signature, not saying a word throughout the whole ordeal.

He happily turned in the papers and he became a part of the Militia. True to his words, there wasn't really much to do in Militia training. Just three weeks of marching, saluting, manual book reading and shooting, after that he was a Militia man.

He remembers his last night on Harvest. He got his first real orders to report to Jericho VII for guard duty, a lot of people in the Militia were ticked up from the prospect and even more so when they had to buy their own tickets and fly like civilians on a space shuttle, but Mark loved it. He did feel sorrow though when his family came to see him off. He tried protesting, but his grandmother gave him a bag full of his favorite books, from novels to children picture stories, she packed it all, even a small box of cookies. His mother was still red eyed and clung to him for what felt like hours until his dad had to pull her off when they announced that Mark's shuttle is set in leave in a minute.

His father however stepped up to him, gazed at him in the eyes before simply saying, "Be careful" and shook his hand. Mark was puzzled when he felt something hard and cold pressed into his palm and looked down to see that his father had pressed a military medal into his hand, but not just any medal; it was the medal of Distinguish Service. Mark was awe struck; he didn't even know his father was in the Army or in any wars at that, he always thought of him as a small town Grav-ball super star that spent the rest of his life as a farmer.

His dad merely smiled, Mark wish he could ask him how he got the award, but his flight was due to leave, so he was forced to leave his family and make his way to the ship. He remembers watching as they hover over the brown planet for one more moment before making the jump.

He would arrive on Jericho VII, and would be performing his duties for only a week when he got the word. Humanity made contact with alien life forms who aren't interested in making friends. In show of this, they have taken or destroyed one of the outer colony worlds; Harvest.

Mark's life changed that moment forward; he left the Militia and joined the Marines. He had been fighting ever since.

An unexpected jerk nearly throws Mark over the cab of the truck, but Seymour grabs him again and pulls him back.

"Well here we are," Freddie announces as he jumps out, shotgun in hand, "we're in the deep end now."

Mark couldn't help but agree. The dirt road they were following has come to a halt right before a smaller path that had been beaten down by boots. The trail leads upwards and deep into the mountains, Mark tries his best to tell himself that the gunfire he is hearing is in his head.

No matter how many years will pass, he's not sure if he'll ever be able to suppress the feeling of fear, only the strong determination to protect his friends, his buddies, is what makes him pick up the rifle and keep them safe. With that resolve in his head, he unslings his SMG before jumping to the ground and double checks his equipment.

He has on his battle armor, a small med kit, some K-rations, his K-bar knife strap to his shoulder armor plate, and his helmet. He has attached a small flash light to his helmet, place on gloves and goggles; he's as ready as he'll ever going to be.

"How high up do we need to go?" Freddie asks as he gazes upwards at the dark slopes.

"Pretty high, maybe a mile up," Hirako says as she pops a clip into her own SMG and looks at Seymour, "on your go Gunny."

In answer, Seymour hefts up an assault rifle, nods and leads the way forward, taking massive steps as he goes. The mortar team looks at one another briefly before scrambling after the Gunnery Sergeant.

The path is steep and worn, made by either marching Marines, invading Covenant forces, or local animal life. Either way, unless they are Marines, Mark isn't real keen on meeting whatever made this road.

It isn't long before the small team is huffing and puffing for air. They're a mortar team, they sit in the back and gets into a few fights, that's it, climbing up the side of the mountain isn't exactly their forte, no matter how many times they do it, it's always a challenge for them not to collapse from exhaustion.

Seymour is the only one who appears to be doing alright, he doesn't even appear to be breathing, hisbmouth is shut and his nostrils aren't flaring. For the hundredth time Mark wonders if the man is even human.

They probably climb fifty feet when they hear the sound of battle increases in volume. The Gunny holds up a fist and the small group comes to a halt as they strain their ears to listen. Not too far away, probably a few more feet higher and a yard away originate the cackle of human firearms and the near audible shriek of Covenant plasma weaponry. Seymour listens for another minute before making quick hand gestures.

_Enemy contact ahead, be alert, kill everything that moves_.

Mark isn't comforted by this message, but he knows this is the ordinary drill. They can't take chances, it takes a lot of bullets to bring down a heavy Covie attacker, and though the Grunts are easy to dispose of, they are still dangerous, especially if they decided to go suicide and blow themselves up with grenades. That's not even including the Jackal snipers, the invisible Elites and the savage Brutes.

These thoughts put Mark on high alert as he scans his surroundings. The trees are now becoming scarce to the point that the only thing in sight are rocky crags and outcropping boulders that sticks up, giving the appearance of a hidden combatants. Soon the shadows start to move, the light grows dimmer and the very hills seem to be emitting the cries of battle. With each step, Mark knows they are creeping closer and closer to their objective. What are they going to do? How are a bunch of mortar men with light weapons help out the skilled ODSTs? Are they even still alive? Are they walking into an ambush? What if enemy reinforcements arrive and glass them where they stand?

A sudden fist being hold up stops both Mark's movement and imagination. Seymour careful climbs up the sheer side of a rocky knoll, barely causing any pebbles to fall as he moves with an odd grace. He soon goes down to his belly, keeping his body off the ground as he holds up his rifle with one hand while the other grasps solid surfaces and pulls himself forward inch by inch.

Mark is so busy watching that he flinches when he feels a hand pat his shoulder. He turns to see Hirako who signals to him.

_Watch out, three sixty movements_.

He nods in acknowledgment and turns to scan his surroundings. The rocky mountain sides surround them and increasing darkness isn't helping much either. A slight wind picks up and it carries the smell of burning flesh and pungent smoke. Are they here to back up the Troopers or to be a burial detail?

A small high tone whistle cuts through and gains Mark's attention. He and his friends look up to see Seymour at the lip of the ridge, observing whatever it is that's on the other side. He waves at them to join him, but keeps his eyes locked on whatever lies before him.

The Marines shoulder their weapons and attempts to follow in the Gunny's likeness, but soon finds it impossible to move like him. They would cause mini rock slides, accidently hit a brush or scrape their armor against the stones beneath them. Mark is sure the whole valley must be alerted of their presence with the racket they are making, but they reach the top without making contact yet.

However when he look over the ridge he realizes that they might not meet any resistance at all.

Before them is an eerie camp that is colored purple and seems to be pulsing blue energy. There a dozen structures, all are domed shape and protrude upwards like right sided eggs or something of the likes. There is a central spiral that all the buildings are connected to; it is there where the ODSTs are moving to. The Troopers have swept through the camp without mercy, splattered all over the place are the remains of Covenant soldiers, and, for once, a minimum amount of human corpses. It looks like the Marines are just now finishing off the last pocket of resistance that has backed themselves against the bulk of the Spire in a futile last stand against the Troopers.

"Well now what do we do?" Hirako asks as she watches the losing fight.

"I say we just sit back and watch," Freddie says with a grin, "it's not every day you get to see the Covenant get their tails kicked."

Any dreams of relaxation is dashed however when Seymour makes more hand signals.

_Negative, move in, secure the area, achieve complete victory_.

"But the ODSTs already-" the Gunny doesn't wait for Freddie to protest before he stands and jumps forward. He slides down the slanted ravine as he comes closer to the enemy camp.

Mark sighs, "guess we have to follow."

"Or go AWOL," suggest an actual hope filled Freddie.

"Or you can shut up and be Marine strong, let's go," Hirako commands as she starts sliding down as well.

Mark is quick to follow while he hears Freddie moan behind him, "this sucks," with that said he hears the scraping of boots and knew Freddie is following.

Slipping and sliding down the slope, the small squad makes their way down with only Seymour upholding the poise of a heroic solider while the other three flops over each other before making it to the bottom.

The small valley they are in is quite small and desolate, easy to see why it was hard to get a bead on their target in the first place. The smell of decay and roasting meat is stronger than ever now. Mark coughs as he tries to avoid breathing in the overpowering foul smell, but there is no real way of keeping his nose from smelling the destruction around him.

As they move forward Mark notices the small pockets of holes that were made in the ground and how they are all similar. He realizes that it was their mortar shells from earlier and he was glad they actually hit their targets and not missed them as he feared they had. The structures appear whole save for a couple where a few whose rooftops have collapse and now left large gaping holes.

Seymour pauses as he surveys the area before giving his next orders, by hand as usual.

_Search each building for enemy contacts and data, Sergeant with me, Corporal and PFC together, rendezvous at center in half an hour._

"But didn't the Troopers already do that?" Mark asks.

_No footprints_, the Gunnery Sergeant indicates, _commence with search and meet at center, clear_?

Almost like back at boot camp, the trio of Marines said, "Ohraa."

Seymour nods before gesturing for Hirako to follow and together they move deeper into the compound.

Mark looks at the two buildings on either side of them and says, "We'll check this one first and then check the next after it."

"Why don't I check the next building while you search this one?" Freddie questions, "it'll be a lot faster."

Mark frowns at this. He doesn't like that idea at all. Regulating speaking, Marines are to never go anywhere alone, especially in a war zone. But at the same time he doesn't want to look like a boy scout or anything, and it would go a lot faster if they did split up.

He is still thinking when Fred sighs explosively.

"Dude, the ODSTs probably already cleared this section and we just need to clean up their mess."

Mark is still silent. Freddie mumbles under his breath before saying, "just check this one," he waves at the first building, "and I'll check the other."

"Wha-Wait!" Mark calls out, "we should-"

But Freddie already walks into his own designated building and the conversation ended.

The Corporal listens to the sound of war all around him before releasing a puff of air.

_I'm not a coward_, he thinks to himself as he approaches the structure, _I just don't want to die, that's the same thing…right_?

He has no time to think further on this, he steps forward and enter the threshold. He immediately feels the temperature difference; it feels as if he just entered a cooler or something. He wonders if the Covenant has a AC system or something, but he stops himself from thinking and forcers his body to act.

The building is purple on the inside, the hall is narrow and offers little cover, but so far there is no sign of alien life. It didn't look that big from the outside, but for some reason he has a feeling he has just entered a whole new dimension or something. He pauses every time he reaches a door which would open automatically. He would sweep the room but they would always be clear. Sometimes some of the chambers are empty, or they would be full of consoles, odd looking furniture and once what looks like multiple pods that he thought were bombs until he saw the cushions within them and guess that they are beds.

He soon come upon a stairwell and starts to make his way up. Almost instantly he sees the difference between the two floors. The second floor has more style, the walls were ablaze with light like how a nightclub's interior would look and there is a sort of geographic designs that reminds him of ancient art work he seen from museums. The first room holds what looks like a bed that is fit for a king; it's large, plush and seems well furnished. The rest of the furniture is of equal statues, almost as if he is in the place of royalty.

He leaves the chambers and checks the other. It looks like a sort of dining room with well carved tables and large pillows lies on the floor around them.

_What could anyone do with all this expensive junk_, the Marines wonders. As a mortar man in a war zone, he knows how important it is to be constantly mobile and to only take what he can carry. So who carries all of this stuff around?

A sudden sound breaks through, one that causes Mark to freeze. A loud deep roar echoes through the hall, one that all humans fear, the war cry of blood craving Brutes.

_So much for being clear_, the Corporal thinks to himself as he edges out of the room and inches his way back to the stairs. He doesn't want to make a sound and alert the alien to his presence when he hears another sound but this one is so much different from the first. This sound is a cry, not of rage but from what sounds as if the creature causing it is in pain, almost like a whine.

This is enough to cause the Marine to pause. Every ounce of logic in his head is screaming at him to get out as fast as he can, but something is holding him back, almost as if it's like a gut feeling. His head is informing him to run like crazy down the stairs while an unknown force is egging him to proceed forward and actually move towards the sound. He wants to discards the thought but at that moment he hears the whine again, this one is much more heart felt and more devastating than the first, almost like an animal being tortured.

_Is it another human being_, he wonders, _maybe it's someone I should try and help_.

Another screech of pain and heard before another roar of a Brute splits through his ear.

Finally he decides to follow his instincts and sprints down the hall, all the while thinking, _I am a dumb jarhead alright_.

He turns the corner and notices the lack of doors. Unlike before, there is only one and it's at the end of the hallway like in all the movies and he has seen every horror movie ever made. He hopes this will turn out better than most films end as he rushes to the door. He is a foot away when the doors spins open and he met with a gruesome sight.

Inside is some sort of command room that is covered in blood, blue blood. Bodies of Elites lay slump in chairs, prone on the floor or torn, in most cases, torn limb from limb. He notes the massive cavity in the ceiling as well as the scorch marks and blacken crater in the center of the room, evidence that one of the Marine's mortar teams have landed their explosive successfully within the enemy camp and the mortar did it job well.

Yet what catches his attention is the Brute standing in the middle of the room. Its big hulking frame is huge, like a grizzly with hands and a much uglier face. Its headgear and the gold armor suggest that this is some sort of high ranking alien, but it doesn't look it. Its brown fur is encrusted with Elite blood and the dark crimson that appears to be its own but it doesn't look to be in pain. Its red eyes are staring at something at its feet as it stares at it with malice.

Mark follows the cold stare and sees some sort of lump that is moving. He registers that the lump is actually a body wrap in a robe, a woman perhaps? He couldn't see, the face is turn away from him. The Brute roars, appearing oblivious to Mark's presence as it raises its large foot, probably to bring it down on the poor person's head.

He has no idea what is going on, but one thing registered. The monster is trying to murder someone; he has a gun and a target that is in sight.

Just as he had done in the past, he raises his SMG, places its stock against his shoulder and fires.

The barrel coughs out a hail of bullets and they fly with purpose as they streak towards their target. A gold shield is activated when the bullet makes contact, but it is enough to catch the monster off guard and forces it to stumble back. Mark doesn't let up, he keeps a stream of lead flowing as he empties his clip, knowing full well that taking down a Brute with small caliber rounds is like trying to disassemble a Battle Cruiser with a wrench.

The red eyes lock onto Mark and it roars one last time and barrels towards him. The Marine hastily steps back, trying to put distance between him and it but its charging with the full force of a tank moving at light speed. It's actually jumping forward like a frog as it closes the distance between them. Its fifty feet away…forty-five…thirty…fifteen!

It is then that his gun runs dry as smoke curls out of the barrel.

_Not now_, Mark thought desperately before remembering basics. There is no time for a reload, he reaches down and takes out his magnum pistol fires with one hand before placing his other beneath the clip to steady his shots. The Magnum spits put larger and heavy bullets; it actually puts more dents in the Brutes armor. The shields glow silver, red, finally a round shatters the invisible energy field. One slug hits it in the neck but it doesn't blink, it growls before releasing one more roar and launches itself into the air and starts to come down, aiming close to Mark's position. He aims for the head and pulls the trigger when he hears a click. Empty!

He watches with upmost horror as the Brute comes down, raising both its fists as it does so like it's an ape or something. More out of desperation than else, Mark activates his helmets flash light and a bright white beam switches on and hits the Brute Square in the eye. It releases a snarl of what could past as confusion before it crashes into the floor.

Mark isn't sure if it'll work, he's not even sure what possess him to do it, but he takes the knife from its shoulder strap and with all his strength he plunges it into the meaty neck of the Brute. It gurgles and Mark is filled with hope that he finally killed the beast.

A giant hand grabs him around the throat and hurls him across to the other side of the room, happening so fast that he doesn't even have time to let out a surprise gasp. His back slams against the wall hard before he slides down to the floor. The knife is still buried in the alien's neck, but it thumps its chest before releasing a enrage wail and charges once more.

Mark looks around, frantic for a weapon, anything before his eyes fall upon the slain body of an Elite in gold armor. Its arm has been severed and the bloody limb is just a foot away, but the energy sword is still in its hand, the fingers still lock around the handle. The Brute is closing the distance again, only a few feet away when Mark acts.

He grabs the hand, pulls back the cold fingers while trying his best not to gag at his grisly work before prying the sword from it hand. He stares at it for a moment dumb struck; there is no button, no trigger, no nothing.

_How does this bloody thing works_! Mark wanted to scream in rage but it's too late, the Brute leaps at him and he actually releases a scream as his hands squeeze the handle in his hand. With a zap like sound that sends sparks of electricity down his arm, the sword is activated, it's see through double blades looking wicked in the dim light.

He looks up and yells once more when the Brute jumps and…stops. Mark has shut his eyes and looked away, as if hoping that this denial of death would grant him a merciful quick death but it's like the whole world came to a standstill. He feels the hot breath of the Brute, just a centimeter from his skin, but other than that there are no other signs of movement. He slowly he twists his head to see what has happened.

The Brute had jump, but in doing so, it had impaled itself on the energy sword. The monster is practically lying on top of Mark since his arms couldn't support his weight, but he notices the hot raged breath is gone and there is nothing, not even a moan of pain coming from the creature. He looks into its eye and just sees empty glass; the thing is dead.

Mark wanted to laugh with joy, but the stench of the dead fur matted being is starting to get to him and he feels if he doesn't get out now he's going to be sick. He wriggles his way out of the beast's embrace, leaving the energy sword which has deactivated and dropped beneath the blubber of the alien. Mark doesn't want it, beside, if the rumors are true, then those things will probably last for a good thirty minutes in a fight before they are depleted of energy with no way of getting them to work again.

He stands up and looks himself over, happy to see that he is whole except for the fact that he his lower body is doused in red blood. He moans a bit as he kneels and with a great jerk he yanks his knifer from the creature's throat, its dead red eye still following his movement. He shivers again as he re-sheaths his blade and turns away.

That's when he sees the bundle on the floor and remembers the whole reason he just started the whole life and death struggle in the first place. He bolts over to the prone figure before going down on his knees and looks the person over.

He is no corpsman, but he has a med kit, maybe he can put a bandage on the wound or maybe he can carry the person out. He gently rolls the figure over till the body is on its back, that's when he looks down before gasping and backs away a little.

He isn't sure what shocks him more; the wound or the fact that the person is an Elite. True enough it's one of them, an alien life from wrap in some colorful gown save for its hands and hooved feet that he can plainly see now that is on its back. Its skin is dark grey, almost black and the talon on its hands looks nasty, a natural weapon. The face however is barely recognizable, the forehead and closed eye looks the same, but the lower face is nothing but an angry blotch of pulp.

The mandibles and jaw bones have been squished to the point that bone, teeth and skin pops out in random places and is hanging out while blue gore slowly drips out. Mark actually looks away and gags before he reaches into his bag, pulls out a bandana and wraps it around his mouth and covers his nose as well.

He glances down and wonders _what just happened? Why was the brute trying to kill this Elite? Weren't they_ friends?

The biggest question now though is he going to help this alien or not? Can he help it or is already too late?

He didn't want to, but he does it anyway.

He doesn't know anything about alien physiques, but he slowly moves his fingers forward. He pushes through the angry blob of flesh that has flowed downward, reminding himself all the while that he is wearing gloves, but that doesn't comfort him the least as he could still feel the squish substance as his fingers makes their way through. Finally he finds the neck and feels around until he identifies the spot on the throat that he believes the pulse is located. There is nothing, not a single movement at all.

Mark looks down and shakes his head, unsure what to do next.

That is when he saw it, movement.

For a moment he though the alien's chest was heaving up and down until he realizes whatever it is, its separate from the Elite's body. It's a small…object wrapped in a bright quilt or blanket that rests in a sort of sling that is clinging onto the alien's frame, almost like some form of carrier.

Curious, he reaches towards it and pulls out the bundle which weighs a little but not too much. He starts to unwrap the thing, curious with what is inside it. Fold by fold, he unwraps the thing until he pulls off the blanket and is beholds a sight he has never seen before.

There, sleeping within the folds of the blanket was an Elite, but not just any Elite, a baby. He really has no idea if he can process this or not. He always has seen Elites as dangerous creatures and nothing else. He never even entertains the thought that these monsters were once babies, children or even teenagers. He has no idea why, but he always thought they just hopped out into existence as cold blooded killers, yet here lies a large controversy of his belief.

The baby is small, almost like a newborn, but he knows its way too big to be considered the same size as human child. It is sleeping peaceful like, almost oblivious to the chaotic world it's surrounded in, a heavy sleeper perhaps? The mandibles are so small and barely visible that it looks like a human mouth but he can just make out the split in the jaw structure and knows its full blooded Elite. It has the hoofs, the claws and the three fingers and, to his embarrassment, he can see that it's a girl, or at least he hopes this is a sign of a girl.

He stares at the small creature for a while before taking in its chest that is slowly rising and falling, signs that it is indeed breathing and thus alive. He stares at it for another minute before leaning back and sinks into deep thoughts, all revolving around one enigma; now what?

Honestly, what is he supposed to do? It's an Elite, an alien, he supposed to kill it, in fact, that looks like the easiest option, just kill it and move on, tell no one what he did and act like it never happen. But he feels deep down that to do that would be considered wrong, that's practically murder, in a war he kills beings that can fight and defend themselves, this infant can't even walk yet. No, killing it is out of the question.

Should he take it to command? What will they do? Put it under armed guard? Locked it in a prison and throw away the key? Or worse, give it to ONI who will no doubt either torture the poor thing or do experiments on it. No, now that he thinks of that, it sounds outright inhumane.

A small cough startles him and he glances down to see the little Elite cough, make some sort of snivel sound before it begins to cry. He just stares at it stupidly, watching as tears slide out of its closed lids and seep down its face, shocked. He didn't know Elites can cry, he didn't know anything about them. The baby slowly begins to bawl and wave it small fists in the air, sounding more and more like a human infant than anything now.

Mark never had any younger siblings before and has no idea what to do, but he does remember some of the mothers of his old neighborhood holding their children and slowly rocks them till they calm down.

He wonders…could he…can he…

He looks down at the baby as it cries before he gingerly reaches down. Treating it as fragile as an egg, he lifts the small infant and holds it against his chest armor, careful not to put let the baby come in contact with the fresh blood that covers it.

The Elite baby finally peel open its eyes, eyes that are the color of amber, it stares at Mark before it starts to cry again. _Now what_, he thought to himself as he gently moves the baby up and down in delicate calming movements. The bawling slows gradually but doesn't stop, every time it looks at Mark it starts to cry anew again.

_Man this kid has lungs_, he thinks to himself as he tries to figure out his next move. _She keeps crying when she looks at me, maybe she knows I'm the enemy, or maybe_…

If this thing is like a human infant, he wonders if it's scared of his appearance, he certainly doesn't look friendly, he probably looks like a robot or something.

_Well here goes nothing_, he thinks to himself.

Carefully he holds the baby in the crook of his right arm before removing his left hand and removes his helmet, goggles, and bandana, placing them to the side as he stares down at the little Elite.

The crying slowly subsides as the small child stares up at him. Carefully, the small alien raises its arm and seems to wave at him.

Mark smiles down at it, her, he remembers, she is actually reminding him of a human child. He slowly wraps his own figures around her tiny digits and gives a soft squeeze. The tiny mouth slowly peels open and he hopes this is some sort of smile.

He freezes when he feels a sharp pain in his knee and panics when it increases. He jumps to his feet and backs away, holding the small alien girl against his side while his other hand takes out and brandishes his knife. Is it the Brute, or did more Coveis sneak in when he wasn't looking?

A small sound draws his attention to the floor and his eyes widen at what he sees. The mauled face Elite, its eyes are open and locked on him, the thing is still alive!

He seriously had an urge to bury his knife hilt deep in the creature's heart, but something stops him. The alien's eyes, it's the color orange, just like the baby.

For the first time in his life, an alien is looking at him, not with hatred, but with something else. Its eyes are deep and thoughtful, but he can see tears forming, from the pain maybe? It's mandibles slowly twitch and he can hear the gasping it's emitting. Mark has seen men and women die on a daily basis, some quick some gruesome, but he knows when death is upon a person; this Elite doesn't have much time.

With its arm shaking, the Elite raise its arm, not in a threatening gesture, but almost like a begging one. Its eyes are full of pleading as it continues to hold up its hand until it finally strikes Mark; there is only one thing that this Elite could want.

He hesitant before reminding himself that the thing is injured, it's hardly a threat and it looks like it's going to die anyway.

He approaches again, blade held loosely in his hand as he squats in front of the alien. However it has lost all interest in him as it now focuses on the baby in his arm. It reaches for it and Mark hands the girl over to it, keeping one hand under the infant for he doubts the dying creature has enough strength to keep the young one held aloft.

The injured Elite quivers, but not out of pain or weariness. It brings the baby close to its eyes as tears continue to fall from its eyes. Slowly it moves the small one closer to it until the Elite presses its forehead against the small cranium of the baby. The girl squirms a bit, but Mark can see its mouth flaring open and knows it isn't scared, this someone whop its familiar with.

The Elite's breathing suddenly picks up and the breathing becomes more and more labored. Tears of what looks like sorrow, despair and even anger fills the alien's stare, but chief among these emotions is some sort of pain much deeper than the ailing wounds.

Slowly Mark's mind begins to register the uniqueness of this Elite. Its robes are more elegant than that of any other Covie he has ever seen, much more colorful and there is an air about the creature that is a bit more…caring and maybe even…motherly…

Could it be, is that why it's so full of anguish?

Mark slowly leans forward until he is a few inches away and, for reasons beyond him, he says, "I'll take care of her."

The alien looks at him with its slit eyes and blinks.

"I'll take care of her," he says again, now affirming his…oath apparently. Why is he saying this, to offer this parent (or what he hopes to be a parent) some comfort that it, or her, child will be taken care of?

The alien blinks at him and he starts to wonder if it even knows what he is saying. Finally it slowly nods, causing some globs of gore to drop as well, and Mark tries his best not to retch at the sight. The Elite offers him one last looks before returning it to her daughter. Slowly, her arm goes weak, forcing Mark to take the girl from her grasp. The small baby whines, but he bobs it up and down in a calming way until the cries stops.

The mother allows some more tears to fall before her eyes go blank and the labored breathing has ceased. He hopes he has the genders correct when he thinks of this Elite as a mother, but what he does know for sure is that this Elite is now dead…and now he has a baby in his arms.

It, no she, squirms in his hands and he gently cradles the extraterrestrial child while thinking, _now what am I going to do_?

**Before anyone starts to question the muteness, remember the story is still developing. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed.**


	3. A Situation

**AN: just to let you know, I change Mark's name from Strank to Straka when I realized I already used the surname Strank in one of my other stories.**

* * *

><p><strong>A Situation<strong>

Freddie pulls the cigarette away from his mouth and releases a puff of smoke as he leans against the wall of the building Mark is clearing. He looks to the center of the encampment and watches as the ODSTs carry away their wounded and dead as the others inspects the remains of the dead alien species. He wonders how Hirako and Seymour are doing; he shivers as he thought of the Gunny and his unbelievable strength.

He hears some scrapping noise behind him and he releases a pent up sigh, "Finally," he moans as he throws the cigarette away, "did you find anything?" he asks without turning around.

"Uh, yeah," he hears Mark reply, "You won't believe what happened."

Freddie smirks, "really?" he turns as he says, "and what would that…"

Slowly the PFC's jaw drops at what he sees.

Mark is standing before him covered in blood. His green armor now appears to be maroon, the wet substance is still dripping from his body and making a small pitter patter sound as the droplets hit the ground. There is a crack on his helmet while his neck and face is slightly purple as bruises slowly develop on the Corporal's skin. His SMG is hanging from his shoulder as it always done, but the barrel is releasing a whirly tendril of smoke, signs of it being overused. Mark looks like he has just been in a fist fight and had lost, badly.

Yet that isn't what catches Freddy's attention, it's the small and oddly brightly colored buddle that is wriggling in his friend's arms that concerns him.

Unconsciously, the Private reaches for his shotgun as he says, "Uh…what is that?"

Mark shakes his head, "something we need to take to Seymour…and maybe Skipper."

"What is it?" Freddie asks again.

"Tell you later," Mark answers again as he walks past his comrade, "now where's Seymour?"

"I think he and Hirako are still on the other side of the camp," Freddie answers as he trails behind, keeping a close eye on the blanket in Mark's hands.

"Let's move then," the Corporal announces before stopping in his tracks as he observes a Drop Shock Trooper a few meters away who steps up next to a wounded Elite lying on the ground. The alien gives a small hiss before the Trooper casually takes out a pistol and shoots it in the head.

The mortar man than turns back around and says, "On second thought, lets skim around the perimeter." Before Freddie can offer his own form of opinion, Mark is already on the move, cradling the buddle closer to him as he goes.

Freddie has to pick up his pace until the two Marines are abreast and he looks back at the moving blanket. He almost staggers when he hears a small whine emerge from the cloth.

"Seriously dude," Freddie says, "what is that?"

"Look, this isn't a story I want to repeat twice ok?" Mark states before slowing, "We'll cross here."

They stop at the corner of the first domed structure and walks down the small path with the Covenant base on one side and the hill on the other. Mark slowly becomes twitchy, especially when a Falcon flies in from overhead. It isn't long before Freddie is clutching his weapon with a death grip and he haunches over, like he is a fugitive on the run.

"This seriously can't be good," he calls out to Mark, "what exactly are you-"

"Later!" Mark shouts back in an agitated and obviously stressed tone.

They strode forward until Mark comes to a stop beside the twelfth building they are passing when he sees a familiar shape not far from them. Emerging from one of the structures is Gunnery Sergeant Seymour with Hirako trailing behind him. Neither of them looks the least bit worried, it appears as if Mark is the only one who has seen some action.

Peeking out from behind the side of the building they are behind, Mark whistles a loud tune that immediately got his teammates attention. Hirako turns with a curious expression while Seymour reaches down to his holstered Magnum, but doesn't pull it out. Mark makes eye contact with them and uses one hand to frantically gesture for them to walk over to his position. Hirako continues to wears a confused expression before she looks to the higher rank Sergeant next to her. Seymour is still for a few more minutes before he lopes over to them, leaving Hirako to follow in his wake, again. Mark wanted to shout at them to hurry up, but keeps his lips sealed.

He has no idea what he is doing nor does he know why he is practically hiding from the UNSC. All that he knows is that he needs to find someone higher up the chain fast so he can dump his little problem unto them.

He feels a moment of guilt at this thought. He promised the Sangheili that he would take care of the little girl, but honestly how is a Marine in a battlefield supposed to do that? He'll be lucky just to keep her alive and besides, it's probably for the best since he doesn't the first thing when it comes to child care, but he's pretty sure keeping them away from a warzone would be a pretty good idea. Hopefully they can put her on a shuttle and...and then what? Drop her off at the nearest orphanage?

Finally, Seymour and Hirako make it behind the building and both looks at the Corporal and Private. Hirako's eyes harden when she notices that Mark is covered in the red liquid that could only possibly be blood.

"Ok," his Sergeant starts off, "What's up boys?"

Before Mark could say anything, Freddie announces, "The Corporal found something, but he's not sharing," and he gestures at the squirming quilt in Mark's hands. Hirako frowns a little at the sight and Seymour's hidden expression didn't exactly fill Mark with confidence.

He suddenly feels very exposed and had a sudden urge to sprint as if he is the one in danger. But these are his brothers and sister in arms, the people who he can trust with his life, so surely he can trust them with what he is about to say…right?

Hirako crosses her arms, "Come on Straka, spill it."

Mark is about to say something when the baby makes another small whine that could probably be heard from ten yards away. Hirako's eyes widen, Freddie stares and Seymour stiffens. These people aren't making the young Corporal feel better.

Finally he just sighs, grabs the top of the blanket and yanks it free, revealing what he was hiding.

Hirako gasps, Freddie jumps two feet away as if he was struck by lightning while Seymour remains motionless, which for some reason makes Mark nervous. He knows from his friend's reaction what it is they are thinking, but he has no idea what is going through the Gunny's mind right now.

Carefully, Hirako walks forward and stares with shock lace in her eyes at what is being held before her.

"Is that…a baby?" she asks in a disbelieving tone.

"Can't be," Freddie mutters, "it just can't be," his eyes suddenly becomes cold, "there's no way those Covies are innocent and caring parents."

Mark sighs as he glances down at the girl he is holding in his arms. Her eyes are dry now, but that left them practically glowing their normal amber color that all but scares him. Her shark like teeth and claws doesn't help either, but he forces himself to remember that she is actually quite harmless and rather cuddly once the initial shock is over.

However, the shock hasn't passed his squad yet, far from it, instead they all appears to be enraged.

Hirako slowly glares before looking at Mark, "Straka, what in the world is this?"

"Hirako, she was alone in the middle of a pile of dead Elites-"

"What happened to the Elites?" Freddie suddenly injects, "did you kill them yourself?"

"No," Mark says as he tries to remain calm, "they were all dead, killed from a mortar round, or at least I think that's what killed most of them, it's either that or the Brute-"

"What Brute?" Hirako suddenly breaks in.

"There was a Brute in there and it was killing the remaining Elites-" Mark started saying before being cut off again.

"Why was a Brute killing the Elite?" Fred demands, "Aren't they allies?"

"That's what I thought," Mark growls as he feels his patience starting to wane, "but-"

"Why didn't it kill the baby?" Hirako questions.

"It was going to kill it and the mother but-"

"There's a mother?" Freddie asks.

"Arrghh!" Mark suddenly cries out, "Yes there was a mother! But she was killed and so would have the baby if I didn't step in and help, ok!"

The Squad falls silent, but soon it is broken when the little alien slowly starts to cry after the sudden shout. Mark's tired frustration quickly fades away as he hefts the baby up further along his chest and gently cradles it, slowly calming the little Elite. He looks up to see his squad, minus the face covered Seymour, gawking at their squad mate.

"What?" Mark suddenly demands, "Haven't you ever seen a baby cry before?"

He is surprised when Freddie growls out, "that's not a baby Mark, that's a Covie."

Mark stares at him, "are you nuts? It's just a kid-"

"Mark," Hirako says in a more restrain voice, but the fire in her eyes betrays her real emotions, "what did you really think was going to happen? Did you honestly think we are going to spare this…thing?"

Mark couldn't believe his ears. They are Marines, they fight as a single unit and trained to be faithful to one another. Yet here he is, looking to his brother and sister for help and they aren't doing a thing but glare and curse. Honestly Mark didn't think this was going to happen, he thought, he hoped, that they would see things his ways, but that's obviously not the case.

He glances at the Gunny, "Sarge, what do you think?"

Immediately, Seymour shakes his head. Mark suddenly feels his stomach drop. Once the Gunny makes a decision, everyone follows, and this latest decision feels like he just gave a verdict.

Hirako must have seen the panic in his eyes and sighs as she rubs her eyes, "Mark, do you honestly think we are going to take that thing with us?"

"It'll eat us in our sleep," Freddie adds in.

"It," Mark stresses, "is a she and she," he nods down at the Sangheili who is now resting her head against his chest, "isn't dangerous, how do you think she will be able to slice us with an energy sword?"

"So what _are_ you thinking?" Hirako demands, "raise it? Keep it as a pet?"

"I don't know," Mark responds, "I just couldn't leave it back there."

"Why not?"

Mark gapes at her, "are you serious?" he demands before hefting up the Sangheili, "she's completely helpless, I can't even imagine leaving her in a place like this."

"Then give her to the Troopers."

Mark shudders at the suggestion, "they would sooner kill her than take her prisoner."

"Exactly."

Mark stares at his Sergeant, unsure if he just her correctly.

"What?"

He gets his answer when he hears a click. He glances in the indicated direction to see Seymour holding his magnum pistol in his hand, all the while his gaze never wavers as they watch the child.

Mark instantly backs away, only to have his back hit the wall of the building behind him.

"No," he mutters before looking up and declaring, "No, you're not going to kill her."

"Mark be reasonable-"

"Since when has killing kids ever been seen as reasonable?" Mark demands.

"Since the Covies glass our own kids without a second thought," Freddie answers with cold fury.

Mark shakes his head, this couldn't be happening, "so that justifies that we should act the same?"

"Yeah," Freddie continues, "why not?"

"I'll tell you why not," Mark says as he squares his shoulders, "if we stoop as low as killing children then how much further down the ladder will we go? How long until we start devolving?"

"This is war Mark," Hirako says, "people die all the time."

"I know, sarge," he says in disgust, "but we should just kill the enemy and nothing more."

"The enemy is in your hands, Corporal," Hirako said sharply, "Who knows, if we let that thing grow, it won't care about anything, it'll just be another killing machine."

"That's not true, you don't know that," Mark claims, "Look," he takes this time to analyze each of his comrade's faces, "I just don't want to do something that will fill us with regret for the rest of our lives."

"We won't have any lives or future to look forward to unless we kill that thing," Freddie states in a loud voice before turning to Seymour, "what's the play Gunny?"

In answer, the Gunnery Sergeant points his pistol at Mark before dipping it down towards the floor, a silent order.

"Gunny," Mark tries again, "please."

Seymour repeats the action.

Mark looks down at the girl in his hands as shame and anger fills him. She is so small, so innocent, this isn't right and he knows it. The Sangheili stares back up at him; her small amber eyes are so full of life, her little hands waves at him while her mandibles come together forming that smile like expression. Despite the situation, Mark couldn't help but smile at the child, he than realize this is the first time he smiled in a long time, a genuine smile. He hears the click again and his happy expression gave way to one of remorse. After tonight, it's going to take a lot of effort to get him to grin again.

Finally he sighs and does as ordered. He slowly takes a step forward, pause for a second to look into Seymour once more in an attempt to plea again, but all he saw is the cock and lock weapon aiming at the bundle. There is nothing to stop the Gunny when he is determined.

Mark looks down in defeat as he kneels and carefully places the baby on the cold ground, one last act of kindness before she is sent off to oblivion. He remembers his grandmother once telling him it is her belief that all children go to Heaven because they are too young to understand salvation, because God loves them. He dearly hopes and prays that God's love will also stretch out to this child.

He is withdrawing his hands when the Sangheili tiny clawed ones grapples onto his gloves. He feels a small pinch on his skin, but knew the child didn't mean to do any deliberate harm.

It's all he can do to look into her blazing warm eyes once more as she releases a sound that can only be described as a squeak. Mark forces a smile onto his face as he reaches down and strokes the child's forehead. She has calmed since the destruction that had occurred earlier, but now he wonders if it was better that she should have died then, when he didn't know her, then to die now after he had created…a form of bond that was made after ensuring the girl's mother that he would care or her.

It looks like he is going to break that promise.

He looks away and stands up, disentangling his hand from hers. He hears her whimper in protest, but he walks away leaving her on the ground. Seymour then steps forward till the Sangheili is at the base of his foot. She looks up at the near two ton man as he holds his pistol out and it hovers from above by about two feet. The girl then smiles at him.

This is suddenly too much for Mark as he turns away and covers his face with one hand. He can't believe he is feeling this way, honestly he only met the kid half an hour ago. Now he feels devastating pain erupt in his chest, something about the child smiling at the face of her executioner, unaware that she is going to die, is a kind of cruelty that suddenly became too much for him.

He feels a hand on his shoulder, he can't tell if it's Freddie or Hirako, but he shrugs it off. He doesn't want comfort at the moment, not from them, not from the ones who condemn a child to death.

He realizes a few seconds have gone by. He closes his eyes and is tempted to cover his ears, he doesn't want to hear the blast, he doesn't want to see, he doesn't want to be here, he suddenly has an urge to run, to leave this planet and never return.

A few more seconds draws by. Will it be a fast and painless shot in the head? Will it be a slow gut wrenching pain as she is shot in the gut? Will she make a sound when the bullet hits? He shudders and nearly screams in agony himself at the mental image that are being drawn in his head; the Sangheili lying on the floor, blood oozing out of the side of her head while her brains litters the floor, ember eyes that are bleak as they gaze at him. He shudders and actually feels his eyes starting to burn.

However, a realization strikes; a full minute must have gone by and there hasn't been a single shot fired.

The anxiety and unknown is killing him, he doesn't want to look back only to watch as Seymour fires his weapon, but he has to know what is going on. Slowly, he lowers his hand and glances over his shoulder.

Everything is exactly the same as it was before. Seymour is standing over the child, the hammer on the Magnum is pulled fully back while its barrel is solely aimed at the Sangheili's little head, yet she still has that smile on her face. Hirako and Freddie are watching as well, arms by their sides as nobody moves, afraid that they will miss something. It's as if the whole world has come to a stop and is now holding its breath to see what the Gunny is going to do next.

Mark has the urge to run the small half foot distance between him and the Sergeant and push him out of the way, but he doesn't dare move. He tries to see what the Gunny is thinking, but he is as still as stone, eyes covered by goggles, stance strong and hands steady. He doesn't look like a injured soldier, now he is a picture of a Marine displaying his strength, but despite all the inner might, Mark is starting to wonder if the Gunny has it in him to pull the trigger.

Than the unexpected happen, so small and quick Mark wonders if he had seen it at all. Seymour's hand quivers slightly, bringing the sights on the gun out of line with its target by a half inch before it returned to it's original position.

Slowly, the pistol is pulled back and holstered again. Mark, Hirako and Freddie, stares with utter shock at what they have just witness, their Gunny, the scourge of the Covenant, the strong monster of the Marine Corps; is sparing the life of a Covenant soldier.

_No, not a soldier_, Mark corrects himself, _a baby_.

With his skin covered from head to toe along with his eyes, it's hard to see what the man is thinking. But when he turns away from the child on the floor, Mark knew what the gesture meant.

Quick as a flash, Mark rushes forward and scoops up the Sangheili before retreating back to a safe distance. The Sangheili squeaks again as she starts nuzzling into Mark's chest, as if she knew how close to death she had been and is now showing a whole new kind of affection.

Mark couldn't help but laugh out of pure relief before looking at the Gunny's back. He doesn't know what prompt the Marine to spare her, but Mark is, for some reason, eternally grateful for it.

"Thank you sir," Mark says softly, unsure if Seymour had heard him. However, when he sees the Gunny look over his shoulder and at Mark, before glancing down at the baby, he knew the Sarge heard.

Hirako still looks utterly shellshock as she walks forward and asks, "what now sir?"

Seymour is completely still for what feels like minutes until he finally giving orders through his hand gestures.

_Head back to Delta Company and gives field report_… he pauses for a few seconds before signing, _avoid the Troopers._

Everyone eyes are wide. Does this mean they are bringing the Sangheili with them?

"B-b-but sir," Freddie stutters, "what about the split lip?"

Mark has used that term hundreds of time before, but now he feels like giving Freddie a real split lip if he ever says anything along those lines again.

Seymour is quiet before signaling, _Head back to Delta Company_. With that he starts to stride with the occasional limp towards the hill where their Spade rests on the other side.

Hirako follows after the Gunny, but not before throwing a concerned look at Mark as she takes her leave. He stares after her for a while before Freddie walks up next to him.

Freddie stares at the little alien as it wriggles its hand, flaps its mandibles and occasionally cuddles with Mark, and all the while the man wears a scowl.

Mark isn't sure what to say, he never seen his friend act like this and he is starting to grow a little concern.

Exhaling once, Freddie looks Mark in the eye and says, "If that thing makes one wrong move, I'm blowing it away."

Mark couldn't believe what he has just heard, but before he could try and put Freddie's mind at ease, the young man has slowly turned and is now walking away.

The lone Marine sighs to himself as he lifts the Sangheili up until they are eye to eye and he asks, "What am I going to do with you?"

She puts her mandibles together in a grin like fashion.

Mark shakes his head, unsure if that could be considered an answer before he puts the alien child against his chest and rushes to catch up with his departing squad mates.

* * *

><p>Va'lorn's eyes widen when Bree puts her stylus down as she stands and stretches.<p>

"Wait," Va'lorn says desperately, "that can't be it, why did Seymour spare you? Were you accepted by the humans that easily? Didn't you stay with them? What are you doing here?"

Instead of answering, Bree smiles at him before shaking her head. It takes a moment for him to understand, but Va'lorn realizes he has just been blabbering away like a idiotic youngling. He couldn't help it; intrigued doesn't even come close to describing how he is feeling at the moment. He was raised with the belief that the humans are mindless destroyers, yet seeing things from Bree's point of view is so mystifying and strange.

Finally the female twirl her fingers into various shapes and positions, making Va'lorn wish he could know what it is she is saying.

He just stares at her, hoping she would know that he couldn't understand what it was she was trying to tell him.

Bree gestures to the window and the young warrior looks outside. Two of the suns have set while the third, but least bright of the stars, remains in the sky, the Sangheili time for the sleeping period.

Seeing understanding in Va'lorn's eyes, Bree slowly makes her way to the hallway, but pauses to look at him and gestures that he should follow. Curious, the Minor stands and follows her. She leads him down the short corridor before pointing out one room that is position parallel to her own.

He moves forward and peeks inside only to find the guest room that he already inspected earlier. It only has one simple bed, one window, a small chest for his few possessions and a chair. He sees no threat here so he glances over his shoulder at the female, raising an eye ridge in question.

She signs towards the room before ending with a hand on his shoulder. This was to be his room.

He frowns as he ponders the situation, was a guard supposed to have his own room? In the past cycle he was being treated more like a guest than a protective guardian and that was really causing him to reconsider his past actions. However when he thinks about it he suppose it makes sense, no Sangheili could remain awake for hours on end and it would be irresponsible of him to be weak when his charge could be in a dangerous situation. He hopes it will be acceptable for him to leave her alone for the night, besides, should anything happen he'll just be a few steps away. Hopefully though, a few seconds is all that an assassin needs to slit a throat.

He shudders at the grim logic, but he becomes absolutely still when he feels a hand being placed lightly against his skin. He looks to see that Bree has her hand on his own and now was starring at him with fire in her eyes. He then realizes the humans, these Marines, didn't just teach her how to survive, they taught her how to defend herself. There are female warriors, but he has never met one in the field, in fact he was taught that by all means the males are the superior gender of the Sangheilis. Yet there is a look in Bree's eyes that makes him certain that she knows how to fight and she certainly doesn't want to be treated like a weakling.

Slowly he bows his head and says, "Thank you Bree."

Her hard eyes soften before she gives him her familiar grin and makes a gesture that he is sure means "good night."

He lowers his head in agreement to her silent statement. He turns to inspect his new room when she suddenly grasps his arm, and from the way her nails are digging into his flesh, there is an important reason.

He looks at her once more and sees her serious eyes as she points out the window. At first he thought she is trying to get him to see something in the outdoors, but than her fingers smoothen out and is directing his attention to the bottom of the space. It is then that he sees some sort of device attached to the wall, a long brown cube with something like a wire sticking out and stretching across the window's span. Nobody can open the window without hitting and snapping the taught line.

He looks to the female and asks, "Are you speaking of the wire?"

She nods, points at it again and shakes her head violently.

He tilts his head in the sign of confusion. She repeats the sign. Finally she holds her hand towards the device before swatting at her limb with the other hand and shakes herhead once more.

"You don't want me to touch the device?" he asks.

She nods.

"Will you tell me why?"

She makes rapid gestures that leave him even more baffled than before. Finally she shakes her head before indicating more sternly that he is not to touch the mechanism. That isn't really much of an explanation but he finally nods in agreement, he isn't going to interfere with the object.

Clearly happy with his answer, she grins and does something else that just about stops his hearts. She leans forward and embraces him. It only lasted half a second before she pulls back and signs that she is leaving to rest. She left with her usual grin and leaves Va'lorn in the room, his mandibles slightly hanging open, completely shock by what has just occurred.

A moment after Bree departed, he finally return to his sense and shakes his head in puzzlement and holds a hand to his spinning head.

"This is defiantly no normal female," he mummers to himself as he slowly starts to strip off his armor in preparation for the sleeping cycle, deciding to wake up early in the morning and ask the female to continue her story.


End file.
